


Hogwarts poems

by psocoptera



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Poetry, Early Work, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-16
Updated: 2003-01-16
Packaged: 2018-02-10 09:58:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2020776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psocoptera/pseuds/psocoptera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Experiments in small storytelling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Voldemort

When Harry finally gets around to telling them about Voldemort,  
his red eyes and high-pitched voice,  
Hermione has them over during the hols and shows them Who Framed Roger Rabbit.  
After that Harry is never so scared again, at least not  
of the way he looks.  
And Hermione  
thinks for the first time of a universal solvent for magic  
and since that's all that's holding Voldemort together  
when Harry pulls out the super soaker from under his cloak  
and blasts him  
he falls apart into a sodden lump of bone and flesh  
soaked in Harry's blood.  
She never admits to Snape where she got the idea.

Only Ron takes away nothing, too entranced by the dancing pictures  
to follow the plot.


	2. Sprout

Nothing gets thrown out at Hogwarts. The house-elves squeeze the pumpkin juice  
fresh every day;  
the pulp and rinds  
are dried and pressed into bricks to shore up the crumbling foundation  
or fed to Hagrid's beasts. Pumpkin seeds sometimes sprout in the manure,  
or vines grow up from the basement  
crumbling the walls further.

"Some day," Professor Sprout thinks, "The vines will win and Hogwarts  
will belong to the plants again."

She doesn't know  
whether she'd be glad or not.


	3. Flick and Swish

Flitwick falls on the first of February  
a fact Fudge says in full seriousness at the memorial service  
and is surprised when the audience snickers.  
They can't help it, all the Fs,  
picturing the small fellow sputtering  
although his actual death, of course  
is no laughing matter,  
suffocated,  
a fistful of feathers stuffed down his throat  
when the Death Eater children  
finally showed themselves.  
They finished with Flitwick;  
they started with Sinistra, pushed her off her tower  
to the icy flagstones below. Fudge gets her  
name wrong when he reads them off.


	4. Badge of Courage

The addition of the gryphon tears  
would have been harmless, were it not for  
the spilled squid ink and the bogie  
Neville had dropped in in a moment of inattention.

The resulting conflagration  
left him without much of a nose to speak of  
which Snape considered justice  
although Madame Pomfrey though she might eventually grow it back.

Meanwhile, he wears a nose made of silver  
like Tycho Brahe; it has ironically made him  
more handsome and more daring.  
Snape hopes his bladder will burst during one of Dumbledore's speeches.


	5. Draco in January

When Draco finally leaves  
Dumbledore is waiting on the steps  
with a copy of his transcript  
just like he was any other student  
leaving to seek employment.

Draco knows  
that Dumbledore knows  
that he is leaving to join Voldemort  
and so the transcript is pointless at best.

What Dumbledore doesn't know  
is that Draco is fleeing so that he doesn't have to witness  
what the other young Death Eaters have planned for the teaching staff,  
and the list of teachers' names on his transcript  
breaks his heart.


	6. Sniper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written long before I had any children, that is, the narrator here is not the author.

Because of the sniper in Maryland, my  
children were afraid to go to school.  
"It's just like in Harry Potter," I  
told them, "Before Voldemort fell.  
People were afraid but they kept on  
with their daily lives. We can, too."

I don't think this is actually true, that James  
kissed Harry and was in at the bank on time  
(or the Ministry or whatever).  
I picture them cooped up in the Welsh cottage  
snapping at each other,  
the diaper bin in the corner taking over the room  
with its overflow, and Lily too afraid her wand would be detected  
to cast an odor-dispelling charm.

"Voldemort killed Harry's parents," my  
children point out, and cling to me even harder.  
So maybe it was a bad comparison;  
we don't even live in Maryland, and also  
there's no magical baby whose forehead  
will reflect a bullet.


End file.
